


someday (when we have learned)

by potahtopotato



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 08:18:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potahtopotato/pseuds/potahtopotato
Summary: Blaise grins at him, and Theo smiles back, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind screaming that this is a very bad idea.Clearlyit’s a bad idea, but the world is going to shit around them, and Theo doesn’t want to die without having first shagged Blaise Zabini, because he doesn’t think anyone deserves to die without first having shagged Blaise Zabini.An examination of Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini's relationship over the course of several years. Spoiler alert: it ain't platonic.





	someday (when we have learned)

The first time Blaise says “I love you” to him, Theo laughs with Blaise. 

“I mean,” Blaise says, draping his legs across an armrest in a way that’s probably supposed to be provocative, “just two weeks ago she was telling me that she’d never trust a Slytherin because we’re all evil, and now look where we are.”

Theo does look at where they are, but mainly by accident. He’s not squeamish about PDA, but Blaise takes the word “affection” to a whole new level, and Blaise’s adoring grin as his hand inches its way up a Ravenclaw girl’s shirt is enough to put anyone off their breakfast.

“How did you manage it, then?” Theo asks, not because he wants to know, but because Blaise is clearly itching to tell someone, and if Theo has to listen to these kinds of secrets in order to hear the important ones that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

Blaise grins at him as though he knows exactly what Theo is thinking, but doesn’t object.

“Well, since you asked… I told her the three words every girl wants to hear. Every bloke, too, probably” he adds after a moment’s reflection, “but I’m not too sure about that yet. Anyway, the other day I said  _ I love you _ , and she swallowed it—how does that expression go?—hook, line, and sinker. She didn’t even know my name a month ago!”

He looks genuinely happy, pleased with himself and excited in a way that isn’t normally broadcasted in Slytherin. It’s a moment of weakness, but Theo has no doubt that it won’t be long before Blaise regains his usual carelessly elegant manner. 

In the meantime, Theo is happy to laugh along with his friend (well, they’re not friends, because Slytherins don’t really have friends, but they are companions, and Blaise is a person whom he trusts more than he does the average student) and take careful stock of the situation. It’s always useful to know the things that lower a person’s armor, Theo knows; information, after all, is power, and he makes the collection of it his life’s work.

* * *

 

The sixth time Blaise says “I love you” to him, Theo laughs at Blaise.

“It’s too easy,” Blaise says, smirking at the other boys in the dormitory. “Really, I don’t see how the rest of you are single. Three words, that’s all it takes.  _ I love you _ , and they’re putty in your hands.”

Theo laughs, because the “bad boy heartbreaker” routine is getting quite old, and the book on his lap interests him far more than relationship advice from Blaise Zabini, who tries so hard not to appear needy or attached that the effect achieved is exactly the opposite, at least to anyone who cares to look for even a moment.

“Not all of us have got, you know, that  _ thing _ ,” Draco points out, scowling, and Theo suppresses a wince. He has no idea how the bloke got into Slytherin (large bribes were probably involved), but Malfoy has never learned when to keep his mouth shut.

“What thing?” Blaise asks, and it’s so damn obvious that he’s been waiting for someone to point out that he’s attractive that Theo just wants to shut him up. He doesn’t, of course, because if you can’t control yourself you can’t control other people, and telling Blaise that “you’re fucking hot, alright?” isn’t a perfect example of self-control.

Draco waves a hand in the air, but it’s far too late for him to try and recover a cool attitude. “You know, you’re—well, you know—”

Blaise tilts his head, an amused (and incredibly smug) smile on his face, and Theo turns back to his book, because this conversation isn’t going anywhere.

“You’re not—you’re not ugly,” Draco finally says after sputtering for a while.

“Why, thank you. How kind of you to say so,” Blaise says, and this time he’s really smirking, and Draco scowls again and mutters something about homework and leaves, and Blaise looks back at Theo.

Theo shakes his head. “I will never understand how he got into Slytherin,” he says.

Blaise laughs, and it looks genuine for the first time all evening. “I know, right? How does one manage to bribe an inanimate object, is what I want to know.”

Blaise  _ is  _ quite fun to talk to, Theo thinks a few hours later, when they go down to dinner, the book on Theo’s lap still unopened. If he was anyone else, from any other family, and in any other house, Theo would probably think of Blaise as his friend. If only Blaise didn’t think it was so funny to take it up with random people, then break up with them in the most dramatic fashion possible, just to see how they’ll react. Blaise leaves behind a  trail of broken hearts, Theo reflects, and resists the urge to write it down because it sounds quite poetic.

* * *

 

The ninth time Blaise says “I love you” to him, Theo laughs at the absurdity of the idea.

They’re tangled together in Blaise’s bed, and though it’s a bit of a tight fit, Theo’s in no condition to be complaining. 

“That’s not the reaction I was hoping for,” Blaise says. His voice is, as ever, smooth and low and nonchalant, though he’s clearly not used to being laughed at following his declarations of love.

“You did it in the wrong order,” Theo says, raising himself on an elbow to peer down at him. “It’s a date, two shags, and then during the third one you say it, right? So that they’re more likely to say it back and then you’ve got that awkwardness out of the way, plus it seems more genuine for some reason.”

“Huh,” Blaise says, and then he pulls Theo down toward him and nothing is said for a few moments. When he continues, they’re both slightly out of breath. “So you were listening to me after all.”

“You’re quite loud, you know; it’s hard not to overhear you occasionally.”

Blaise grins at him, and Theo smiles back, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind screaming that this is a very bad idea.  _ Clearly _ it’s a bad idea, and Theo is under no delusions that he can change him, or whatever bullshit Blaise’s other lovers use to convince themselves that they are not, in fact, morons for getting involved with Blaise. 

But the world is going to shit around them, and Theo doesn’t want to die without having first shagged Blaise Zabini, because he doesn’t think anyone deserves to die without first having shagged Blaise Zabini. And this may be a bad idea, but at least it’s  _ his  _ bad idea, it’s his choice, and at least he’s in control of this one small thing in an ocean of dread and terror. 

Plus, he’s realistic. He doesn’t want Blaise’s love or commitment, and he doesn’t want false promises or “forever”s. Theo is a sixteen-year old boy, but he is, in fact, capable of rational thought, and he wants, after this affair is over, in a week or a month or maybe two, to be able to count Blaise among his not-quite-friends.

Theo knows that the reason that so many fall into Blaise’s trap (apart, of course, from the obvious) is that they believe that they are different, that they can be the ones to conquer the unconquerable bad boy. Theo doesn’t want to do any conquering; he just wants to forget everything for an hour or so, and is that so much to ask for?

So he laughs, because apparently the “I love you”s are an irreplaceable part of the routine, and as long as he knows the truth, Theo doesn’t particularly mind being lied to. 

* * *

 

The fifteenth time Blaise says “I love you” to him, Theo laughs at himself.

They’re sitting by the Black Lake, presumably here on a picnic to celebrate spring beginning at long last. The original group of the sixth-year Slytherins has, with many a pointed look at Blaise and Theo, left them to themselves.

They’re not having sex—not yet, at least—and that makes everything so much more complicated than it needs to be. Instead, Blaise is sprawled on his back, presumably looking at clouds, and Theo has his head on his chest as he tries to focus on his book, a task that is made doubly difficult by the close presence of Blaise and by the sun, which is shining directly into his eyes.

Blaise reaches down and rubs a thumb over Theo’s cheek and whispers “I love you”, and Theo laughs because God, he has underestimated his own stupidity. Because when Blaise tells Theo he loves him, Theo is starting to believe him. He is starting to believe those beautiful eyes that he could drown in and that small, seductive smile and that low, contagious laugh. Because of course Theo is falling in love despite everything he’s promised himself, and of course it’s with the one person who won’t even blink before breaking his heart.

When Blaise asks him why he laughed, Theo tells him he just remembered a joke, and of course Blaise doesn’t believe him but then he wasn’t meant to. Unconvincing lies, Theo finds, are often as effective as convincing ones at avoiding the truth, and they usually require far less effort to pull off.

Theo squints up at the clouds and wonders what the hell is he is doing with his life.

* * *

 

The 24th time Blaise says “I love you” to him, Theo laughs at the abrupt way it all ends.

They’re snogging in an empty classroom—funny how there seem to be more of those nowadays, more emptiness—and the words sound like they are torn out of Blaise’s mouth, like he can’t help himself. 

Theo pulls away from Blaise, holds him at arm’s length. 

“Fifteen,” he says, and Blaise’s expression turns from lust (and something else, something indecipherable) to casual disinterest so quickly that Theo is almost impressed.

“Fifteen,” Blaise repeats, and nods. 

Fifteen is the magic number, Blaise has told Theo on many an occasion. Fifteen “I love you”s, and no more. Usually he loses interest before then, but even when that doesn’t happen there can never be a sixteenth. Fifteen “I love you”s, scribbled or moaned or murmured over the course of a day or a week or a year, and then the breakup. 

After the fifteenth “I love you”, there is an unceremonious dump, some sort of half-assed speech about how they’re a wonderful person really, but it just isn’t the right time. It doesn’t matter what Blaise tells them, because they usually aren’t listening by then, too busy crying or yelling or hexing, or, sometimes, turning around and leaving the room.

It’s Blaise’s second favorite part of the process, Theo knows. The best bit is the chase, but the end is just as delicious, just as satisfying. 

Sometimes Theo wonders what it says about him that he’s fallen for someone who genuinely enjoys causing people this much suffering, but the answer is invariably that it’s nothing he didn’t already know.

_ Fifteen _ , Theo thinks, and tries to be grateful that at least this way it won’t go on for any longer (at least this way, he won’t have time to fall any further).

“Well,” he says, reaching out a hand to shake, “thanks.”

Blaise doesn’t react for a moment, and Theo wonders if he’s going to leave him hanging, but then Blaise grasps his hand, and they shake, and Theo laughs because he can clearly recall every decision that’s led him up to this moment, and, absurdly enough, he wouldn’t take a single one of them back.

They leave the classroom together because they’ve never bothered to hide their relationship, so there’s not much point in starting now, and because, although of course he doesn’t say this, Theo wants anyone who sees them to know that he is not like the others. It’s a lie, but a pretty one, one that Theo wants as widespread as possible. The Hogwarts gossip mill will do its work, and in a few weeks Theo will be just another name on the list, and Blaise will have a new boyfriend or girlfriend. 

And Theo will have to pretend not to care about it all. Well, how hard can it possibly be?

* * *

 

The 25th time Blaise says “I love you” to him, Theo laughs at the fact that Blaise actually expects Theo to believe him.

They’re standing together in one of the many dark corridors of Hogwarts, because Blaise told Theo that they needed to talk immediately and Theo, despite himself, wanted to know what he had to say.

The answer is not very much, apparently, and Theo doesn’t attempt to conceal his amusement, because this is just plain ridiculous.

“Your newest find not any good in bed?” he asks, because while he can think of a million reasons why Blaise would be saying this, that seems to be the most likely one.

Blaise tries for a sly smirk, but ends up grimacing. “He’s excellent, actually.”

“What’s the problem, then?”

“I don’t love him.”

Neither of them are moving; fidgeting is a sign of weakness, and they may have kissed too many times to count, but they’re both Slytherins at heart, and this moment is too precarious to risk any visible holes in your armor.

“You don’t love anyone.” Theo’s voice is so flat it would give a piece of parchment a run for its money.

“I love  _ you _ ,” Blaise says again, and Theo laughs because it hurts  _ so fucking much _ to hear Blaise saying it, hurts more than it did, before it was fifteen, because now Theo can actually delude himself into thinking that Blaise means it, and of course that’s what Blaise wants, even if Theo isn’t sure why, and the realization of the extent of his own bloody stupidity hits Theo over and over again like punch after punch in the stomach, because why would he ever think that he could actually escape Blaise without a broken heart?

“No, you don’t,” Theo says, because Blaise is looking at him like he expects a reaction, and Theo doesn’t have the strength to play power games right now.

“What makes you so sure of that?” Blaise asks, and he sounds so hurt and curious and Theo is so, so stupid.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you,” he says (it’s not even a lie, because he he already has). “I just wanted a shag, alright? And it’s been fifteen, and we’ve already broken up, and I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.”

“I—” Blaise says, and it’s only because he knows him so well that Theo can tell that he’s making a show of being unsure of himself, that he’s purposefully revealing his vulnerability. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Theo is getting annoyed despite himself. Doesn’t Blaise have anything better to do with his time? The Dark Lord has returned, the world is going to hell, and still Blaise insists on trying to play these games.

“No, you  _ don’t _ .” Theo knows that there’s too much emotion in his words, but he wants this conversation to be over. “You’re just refusing to accept that someone didn’t fall in love with you, so you’re trying to recover your dignity or something. Blaise, I have things to do, so unless you have anything relevant to tell me, I’m going to class.”

And Blaise just  _ stands  _ there, looking lost and damaged and Theo wants so badly to hold him, to help him, but the truth is that Blaise Zabini doesn’t do lost and damaged unless there’s something in it for him, the truth is that Blaise Zabini doesn’t do love, so Theo turns around and walks out of the room and doesn’t look back.

* * *

 

The 26th time Blaise says “I love you” to him, Theo can’t quite manage a laugh. 

“We’re both shitty people,” he says to Blaise. They’re in one of the many sitting rooms of Theo’s recently inherited house, and neither of them has said anything for a while. It’s hard to find the right words when so much has changed, especially as they were never the greatest at directness to begin with. 

Theo used to think that that was a Slytherin trait, that divulging information when not strictly necessary was a weakness, that if you couldn’t figure things out on your own then you didn’t deserve to know them. Now, he’s not so sure. Theo is sure of very little anymore, but he does know that being hesitant or confused, especially in the aftermath of a war that he lost, is going to be helpful to no one.

He knows he made bad choices, knows that he is a terrible person, and that is enough of a lifeline for him to cling to as the world spins and tosses around him.

Blaise nods. “I think you’re right,” he says.

“There are twelve-year olds who wake up screaming because of what I did to them.” Theo takes a sip from the glass of wine on the table in front of him.

He can feel Blaise watching him carefully, and he doesn’t care. A year is a long time when you’re seventeen, and it’s longer if there’s a war going on. Things have changed in the Slytherin dormitory, and if Blaise is planning to fall back into the same social circles he’s going to have to get used to the new rules. 

“I would have done the same things,” Blaise says, “if I’d stuck around.”

Theo shrugs. “Probably.”

And they don’t say anything again, because talking is hard, and talking to someone who just up and left; well, that’s even more difficult.

(Theo’s tried not to feel betrayed, but how else is he supposed to feel when he is forced to  _ Crucio _ children and the person who supposedly loves him is lying on a beach somewhere in Italy, wondering if he put on enough sunscreen?) 

Theo wonders how to put into words what he means, the way that seventh year changed him—changed them all—but he’s not sure if he’s capable of it, and anyway he has a feeling that Blaise wouldn’t understand.

“I believe I still love you,” Blaise says into the silence, and Theo imagines the words echoing around the room, bouncing on the rich hardwood floor and ricocheting off the windows. The words are aimed for him, for his heart, but they sink into a sofa and stay there.

“I know,” Theo says, because he does, and he tries to laugh but it sticks in his throat, and he coughs a little and takes a sip of the wine. 

“You always laugh,” Blaise says, frowning a little.

Theo shrugs again. “It’s funny,” he says, and doesn’t elaborate even though he should, because old habits die hard, and trying to be straightforward after spending your entire life practicing circumspection is harder than Theo thought it would be.

“You know,” Blaise says conversationally (he says everything conversationally), “I know you keep saying we’re both horrible people and all, but I think we can still be happy.”

He’s making an effort, Theo can see that.

“Sure,” Theo says, and then, because he wants to much as Blaise does, adds, “we could try again if you wanted. Try to trust each other. Be more honest. The way the rest of us did during the war.”

Blaise’s eyes narrow; he looks suddenly wary, and it’s not hard to tell why. He’s waiting for a catch, but there is none. Theo is tired of catches, tired of slyness and paranoia and locking his trunk at night. Trusting no one is just as dangerous as trusting everyone, and Theo’s had enough danger for a lifetime.

“Blaise,” he says when Blaise doesn’t respond, “I’m serious. It’s a new world out there, and if I had to pick anyone to be by my side, it would be you.”

Blaise nods, slowly. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

* * *

 

The hundredth time Blaise says “I love you” to Theo, Theo has stopped counting.

They’re lying together in their bed, Theo reading while Blaise drifts off into sleep. Theo closes his book and turns out the light, and as he wraps his arms around Blaise under the blankets, Blaise whispers “I love you”. 

And Theo smiles and says “I love you too”, because he does.

_ Fin. _


End file.
